


Build a Bridge Betwixt the Stars

by confusedkayt



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Asgard, F/M, M/M, Multi, Slow Build, Trigger warning: canon-typical panic attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:59:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedkayt/pseuds/confusedkayt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a lot of skill to engineer something delicate, not to mention something that is also, in a word, enormous.  Odin knows better than to tackle the Bifrost on his own, and help close to home is... not forthcoming.  Happily, his elder son has made some very useful friends.  Tony Stark's about to receive an offer he can't refuse, and there's one hell of a vacation behind Door Number Three.  Good thing he's a fast learner, and that his girlfriend's got the patience of Job.  Shame that his teacher's a genocidal jerk with Lilith Fair hair and a bad habit of outright lying, but, hey, you can't have everything.  Except he's Tony Stark.  Of course he can.  Somehow...</p>
<p>Spoiler warnings: this will contain content from Iron Man 3 and the Thor 2 trailer</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pants Are For Amateurs

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry to say I'm going to put this on hold for a bit, as I'm in the process of being seriously Jossed by Thor 2! I will complete it, but probably not until the fall.

"Ow, Jesus, what...." Not that his sleep had been that fucking **sound** but he's sure as hell awake now, tiny electric pulses coursing from somewhere in his goddamn _bed_ , not strong enough to interfere with the bracelets _yet_...

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Stark," and he knows that voice, which shouldn't be anywhere near his goddamn _bed_ at... 

"JARVIS, time," he growls.

"Three twenty-three a.m." At least he has the decency to sound apologetic, unlike Nick Fury, who is fucking _chuckling_ into what is apparently a _taser phone._

Tony flails around and does not _yelp_ , of course not, when he grabs it and hits "end call" with the righteous fury of the unjustly awoken. The phone sparks, actually visibly _sparks_ along to... "Is that the _Galaga theme_ ," because of course it is, what the hell...

"Incoming call from S.H.I.E.L.D.," JARVIS says in his most conciliatory tone, and something in his angry flailing must look like acquiescence because the damn thing stops sparking and picks up which won't do _at all_ , there's got to be something big enough to _smash it_ if it won't just spark out and seriously, what the hell.

"Did you just call me to breathe on the phone, Little Nicky, because there's a word for that." There. Good. At least that sounded calm.

"It wasn't my idea to interrupt your beauty sleep," and there's a touch of annoyance in that unflappable voice. "Seems you've gone and _impressed_ somebody who don't keep business hours."

"OK, Captain Cryptic, that doesn't sound like 'hey, get up, aliens are already invading.' Is this a puzzle because, seriously, Words with Friends never sleeps unlike, say, oh, ME. Pepper's gonna skin you, she's been trying to get me to sleep for days and... hello, video, is that your brother from another mother, seriously, if this eyepatch thing is a trend now..."

"War-Smith, we have need of you," says Eyepatch the Second.

"Yeah, well, we all have needs. I, for instance, need a pony and an appointment, seriously, I have a schedule..."

Fury's cough says _bullshit_ without even muttering it, how does he do that anyway, and Eyepatch Two: the Reckoning wrinkles his brow, mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "steed," shakes his fairly righteous head of hair. "My son gave me to understand that this hour saw you at the height of your craft."

"Well, yeah, ok, usually that's true but I don't take calls then either and..." Tony's brain catches up with his mouth, shuts it with a snap. "Son... eyepatch... Right, ok, sorry I'm not dressed to receive royalty," he says, smirks, and.... "Did Odin just wink at me, because I think he did and, hey, awesome, I've read about you, we can talk, you seem like an all right guy unlike Colonel Killjoy over there, why the middleman?"

There's just the tiniest hint of a smile there and Tony's not proud that Odin Allfather digs his schtick, he isn't, everybody does, really. "I was under the impression that he was your commander."

"Yeah, no," and Tony gives Fury his oiliest smirk. "I'm a free agent. Seems somebody thinks I don't play well with others."

"You fought at my son's side well enough," Odin says and yeah, that's some deceptive mildness, not the time to ask _which son_ , and hey, look, tact, who says he doesn't have any of that?

Tony trains his eyes on Nicky. "Yeah, well, seems I'm good enough for the team when the world needs saving."

"Stark," Fury growls.

And Tony's not at all self-satisfied when he purrs, "not the time, Colonel Sanders," nope, not at all. And hey, _need,_ Odin had said, need was a good word, seems like a guy you'd like to have owe you a favor. "Which leaves me, fortuitously, free to help you out. What are you after? Smith, you said, does big and blond need some new armor because he's got serious style but he's a little behind the times, not that he's not formidable now but with a little tech behind him, wow. I was meaning to get around to that anyway next time we saw him stateside."

Odin gives him a considering look. "That was not my intention, but we would be honored to accept such a gift from a mage of your caliber."

Tony's mouth twists. "Mage, whoops, sorry, no, wrong guy, tech only," and his hands are doing his apology thing.

"Call it what you will," Odin dismisses. "I can feel the workings of your power even through this device." Tony's dubious wince must penetrate, because, "it is different than our workings, I grant, but Heimdall has seen the power in your creations and it is your craft we have need of."

"Need, you keep saying, but..."

Odin's face takes on a serious cast. "My son told you, perhaps, of our Bifrost..."

"Yeah, no, we didn't have much time to chat but I picked up a little from Jane Foster and ouch, sore subject, I see, sorry..."

Odin waves it away. "She is observant, yes, but she lacks your powers of creation," and hey, Tony only winced a little at this casual use of the word _powers_ , so, hey, progress, although he's willing to bet this guy doesn't miss a trick. "Someday, perhaps, she may prove worthy," and that sounds like a grudging admission and, yeah, not touching that. "The problem is too pressing," and Tony wants to interrupt but maybe they're getting somewhere and hey, Odin. Even Tony thinks twice about cutting him off. "The Bifrost has been shattered." The lines on Odin's face seem to deepen at that - Tony's willing to bet he knows who did the shattering, passive voice notwithstanding. "That would be enough of a hindrance; it is a... _delicate_ time and I am loathe to spend so much on communication and travel that should by rights be simple. But spend I must, though all the while the bridge loses stability."

"And I'm guessing you're the guy that made it. No time to fix it and hold it together both?"

"That, and I do have other duties," Odin says drily. "It is, as I said, a delicate time."

"And there's no homegrown talent to help you out," and it's a statement, just thinking out loud, but Odin... He looks suddenly, infinitely older, fathomlessly sad.

"None that will aid," he says, and Tony swallows. "That is why I must call on you."

"I'll do what I can," he says, without really meaning to, because hey, big project and he's got Iron-Manning to do and a company to run, even if that's more or less in theory these days and shouldn't he at least bargain or something but there's something about this guy, this request... You don't have to come right out and say worlds-hanging-in-the balance. "But, hey, tech guy, remember..."

Odin nods, grave. "Perhaps your workings can create a solution where we can find none. And we are not without teachers, though they lack the power for such a work in their own right, should our bridge prove resistant to your methods."

"I'll need readings, sensors, can you get some up there, and hey, anything you you can tell me about how the thing was made in the first place..."

He's already off a mile a minute but, hey, "You are ready, then, for the journey?" That'll yank a guy back down to earth.

"The... journey..." he repeats and Odin gives him a look, like he's missed the obvious.

"It is no small honor," he says with sardonic little grin. "It has been many years since one of your kind came to my city. Longer still since he who journeyed still was numbered amongst the living."

"Right. About that..." Tony shot a guilty glance at Fury.

Odin followed it, turned to Fury. "I understand that you have formidable forces at your disposal?"

"That we do." Tony's almost - _almost_ \- impressed that Fury still sounds unflappable.

Odin turns back to Tony. "Your concern does you credit. If there be need, I will see to your return and with you any aid that Asgard can provide."

Fury's eye widens fractionally. "Good to know. We can cover the day-to-day."

Odin nods, and hey, hand motions, motions with the hands, that looks like a stiff brew of mojo which is not so good....

"Hey, are we talking right now, because I'm going to need to get some stuff, set things up because I assume we're not talking a day-trip here if my travel's gonna require your personal attention, and hey, maybe I can get dressed..."

"You speak true," Odin says, and that amused little curl of his lips is back. "How much time do you require for your preparations?" And that's a toughy, there's Pepper and the company and he'll have to ditch his patrol work and why hasn't he already modified a laptop to run on arc power because he's betting they have a different voltage up in _Valhalla_ and Jesus.... Odin must not like the twitch of his calculations because he intones, "Time is of the essence."

"Right, yeah, got that, so..." He pauses, swallows. The mods won't be that hard, honestly, and everything's more or less here, factor in a couple of hours for a Defcon-level Pepper freak-out and... "Nine hours," he says, "give or take."

"Nine hours," Odin intones and if that's not the nod of finality... "Our thanks, Tony Stark."

"Make it ten." And hey, Fury, forgot that guy was there. "We've seen the kind of damage your... transport can do. Better pick him up at the facility upstate."

"Until then," and then Odin's just... gone.

"Well, fuck," Tony whistles.

Fury's mouth twitches. "When you're right, Stark, and that's not very damn often.... When you're right, you're right."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS for Tony panic attacks of the canon-typical variety.

Honestly? Ripping through space-time is a little anticlimactic, if by ‘anticlimactic’ you mean ‘screws his instruments all to hell and everything is a black, terrifying mess of beeps and flickering HUD and awful crushing-falling breathe, Tony, _breathe._ ” The end result is that he’s not exactly sure which way is up or what’s shaking his arm and hey, no, systems still down, how much air is in the suit…. Breathe, Tony. After that, first order of business is to pop the helmet, or, you know, scrabble his unresponsive gauntlet in the general area of the manual catches and bad, no, hands that are not his hands are on his head, knocking his own aside and hey, that’s Thor. Thor good.

“Tony?” Thor…. It’s not ‘says,’ nope, it’s ‘booms,’ ‘booms like an inch from Tony’s face’ and he’s walking back that Thor good assessment, and Tony’s hands have a life of their own, apparently, and are smacking at Thor’s without permission. At least Thor drops away from his neck, but he’s still right there.

There’s the booming, again, but at least it’s directed somewhere other than right in Tony’s face and deep breaths, count them, one, two, three…

And then Thor’s right there again, close enough that Tony can taste his breath and, “don’t they do personal space on Asgard,” Tony snaps and Thor does a kicked-puppy squint but rocks back, at least a little, even if his big paws land heavy on the suit’s - Tony’s - shoulders.

“I beg pardon if I have offended,” Thor says, and those over-sincere baby blues kind of make Tony want to hit something but hey, he can feel his fingers again so, progress. “What ails you? My father assured me that the transport would do no harm…”

“We’re good,” and yeah, shaking his head should’ve been a no-go but he’s got to shake this off. “Just… needed a minute.”

“As you say,” and yeah, Thor shouldn’t take up poker.

And now he’s got an eyeful of Thor-crotch, which either means Thor can fly or Tony’s not exactly upright. Time to take stock. The power’s still on - good, good, that means the reactor’s still functioning and he’s _not thinking about that_ and how did that only just occur to him, Jesus Christ - so it’s not too hard to move his arms and yeah, ok, that’s the floor.

“Your armor, at least, knows humility,” and that booming is not Thor-generated.

It’s the prompt he needs to get his hands underneath him and lever up. “Yeah, kneeling’s not my style.”

“So I have seen.” Now that he’s up, he can level a glare at the big - seriously huge, bigger than Thor even, what do they feed em on Asgard - guy in gold armor. The guy’s not even looking at him.

Fuck that. Tony stomps over in front of the guy and he’d almost consider not mouthing off to someone that big with both hands on a sword as tall as Tony, but caution’s not his style either. “Good to meet you, Goldeneye.” He sticks out a hand to shake but gets only an amused look. “Way to leave me hanging. It’s cooties, isn’t it. Human cooties, I get it, no…”

Thor scoots on over and clasps Tony’s arm, not quite a shake, but he’ll take it. “Take no offense, my friend. Heimdall has his duties, and can take no chances in this unstable time.”

“Yeah, no comment,” Tony gripes but Thor’s laugh has coaxed a smile out of harder men than him.

“Truly, I had not thought to see this day.”

“I’m hurt, Sir Shouts-a-lot, that hurts…” Their wrinkles his nose, but he’s cut right off by, hello, some guy blinking into existence at Tony’s elbow.

“This is the War-Smith?” and yeah, tall, dark and skinny drawls like he’s bored but he’s clearly eyeing Tony up in a way that would register as threatening but Thor looks more confused than hammer-time and never let it be said that Tony can’t take a social cue.

“Yeah, hi,” and the guy looks unimpressed. Can’t have that. “What? Something on my face?”

“Not your face, no,” the guy says, and yeah, no, that stray hand is headed straight toward the arc reactor.

Tony covers it up, too quick, but shoot him, it’s a reflex. “Whoa there, Stranger Danger….”

Huh. Apparently hands-up is a universal gesture, even if grabby there couldn’t look more suspicious if he tried. “I must apologize. Your working, it is…” He shakes his head - there’s enough jewelry in there to clink when he does it, or maybe that’s just the gold on his shoulders. Gotta love the bling quotient around here - hell, this room’s gold enough to make Trump jealous. “I have been remiss. I am Lothar Logarthsson, student of Freyja and here in her absence to see you and Prince Thor to the castle.”

“It is good to see you, my friend,” and wow, you’d think the brother of the _god of lies_ would have picked up a thing or two but yeah, not so much.

“But?” and that’s a vicious little smirk you’ve got there, Lothar.

Thor looks a little rueful, shrug and all. “I meant no offense. I have not seen my aunt for many years.”

“It will be many more, my prince.” An affected little shrug and, “It seems Odin Allfather had need of Freyja’s services.”

Tony knows when he’s on the wrong side of a Significant Look. “Hey, no need to spill state secrets in front of the mere mortal.” Thor looks so guilty that he almost feels bad but hey, who’s doing who a favor here? Still, he can throw a bro a bone. “So what’s on my agenda? Do I get the grand tour?”

Thor perks up at that, but this new guy’s no fun. “Perhaps another time. Queen Frigga awaits your arrival. After you have been settled, of course.” Another hungry look, this one sweeping over the suit.

It’s instinct, really- he clutches his helmet in front of him, blocking a clear view of the arc. Lothar spooky-smiles, and Thor hastily steps between them. “Perhaps there is time to show Tony the task before him?”

Lothar ducks his head. Time to put on his game-face - even if he’s pinging Tony’s scumbag-sense, he might have to work with the guy.

There’s an awful, jittery-juttery groan and wow, ok, the building’s moving - he’s just itching to get his hands on the plans for this place, holy shit, the way it moves, and not a start-button or gearshift in sight - and the back rumbles open far enough to let them slip out.

“Do not stray,” Heimdall warns, and Lothar hisses a little. Tony grins a little - signs of life. That’s more like it. Lothar quirks his lips, taking the creepy down a notch, and yeah, ok. Maybe he’s not so bad.

“What, you don’t talk orders from Gold and Pompous?” Thor shoots him a dirty look. Fine, fair, it was a stage whisper but it’s not like anyone here would thrill Miss Manners.

“I do not take orders.” A curlicue smile, the kind of heavy glance Tony knows a thing or two about. “Generally.”

“The Man of Iron is spoken for,” and shut up, he can’t help but snicker at that much disapproval. Hell, Thor could give _Cap_ lessons. “If luck is with you, you may meet the Lady Pepper.”

“I shall wait with bated breath,” and well, well, well - Grabby’s suddenly fascinated with his nails. It’s clumsy enough that Tony can’t help but chuckle, which sort of evolves into a gasp - fine, a snort, chucklus-interruptus is not a _graceful_ thing - at the kickass view. Disneyland castle got busy with a church organ, gold, gold and more gold and the result is deliciously, improbably, gorgeously _alien._

It’s Thor’s turn to chuckle. “Truly, it is a banner day. Twice your words have been stolen from you.”

“Hey, now…” he starts, and Thor smiles his very best Teen-Beat-Cover-Guy grin.

“Peace, Tony. It pleases me to see you so enthralled by my home.”

That’s the trouble with Thor - he’s so sincere that even Tony feels bad about sassing him. Some of the time. “You gotta introduce me to your architect,” and there- that’s just snotty enough to preserve his dignity.

“And earn a share of good lady Pepper’s wrath yet again? No, I think.”

“Not that I don’t applaud your self-preservation instinct, scout, but what…”

Jeez, Thor interrupts almost as much as Tony does. “I have heard her each time you sweep aside plans for the repair of your own fortress.”

Tony snickers. “Gotta hand it to you, big guy, you do have…”

“Watch your wanderings, War-Smith,” and poor ol’ Lothar-of-the-Rings looks pretty put out, which, fair - they had kind of forgotten he was there.

“Holy alliteration, Batman!” is out before he thinks the better of it, and it does not-much for Lothar’s wet-cat pissiness.

“Step where you will, then. I care not, if this is all the sense you speak,” and wow, yeah, ok, the… shimmery, half-see-through ground they’re on that he’d kind of overlooked in favor of the giant gold headliner just… stops, and wow, yeah, good job, brain, with the selective filtering because how is he just noticing that they’re completely surrounded by accept-no-substitutes, stars-and-scifi, promised-himself-never-again-oh-god-it’s-cold-where’s-JARVIS _space._

Wow, ok, there’s Thor again, grip too tight on Tony’s shoulders and Lothar’s saying something but hell if he cares what it is because _Jesus Christ,_ not again, not now, when he’s basically serving as earth’s ambassador to Charles Atlas’ Home For Brick-house Vikings.

“Watch your footing,” and there’s something funny, extra-strength not-talking-about-it pain in Thor’s voice. He can take one guess.

He can also take one moment. He tries closing his eyes but it’s _dark_ in there and they open without asking and yeah, ok, that’s actually better, weirdly enough, because the view straight down is the jagged edge of the soap-bubble they’re standing on and lots of rushing water. Deep breaths. Digits of pi. Deep breaths. He’s got this.

It’s a sudden, punishing uptick in Thor’s grip on him that really brings him back to himself. “You would not say such things if you knew what it was to fall in the In-Between,” and that’s a full-on Thor growl, directed not at him but at Lothar, and that slimeball face of his is sliding from contempt to considering, which, hey, progress. Thor must agree, if the little huff and loosening of his hands is any clue.

Not that it lasts, because Lose-ar opens his damn mouth again. 

Lothar’s innocent look is extremely unconvincing. “Ah, yes, I had forgotten. Your short-lived quest for a trace of…”

“Mind your tongue,” Thor hollers, and yeah, enough of that.

Tony pats at Thor’s hands. “Yeah, hey, let’s not shout right into Tony’s ear.”

Wow, great. Not that he’s Mr. Dignity, but being literally dragged around by Big and Blond is not doing wonders for his self-image, here. Worse, Thor rattles his snarky comment right out of him with a ‘little’ shake, which is little only on the gods-and-monsters scale of “tooth rattling” to “Shaken Tony Syndrome.”

“Choose your steps with care,” and yeah, that force-neutral voice Thor’s got going is not fooling anyone.

“Got it,” he says, and Thor lets him go - scratch that, Thor relinquishes his two-handed grip in favor of sidestepping and placing one heavy hand on Tony’s far shoulder.

Lothar looks _gleeful._ Dick. “Perhaps we should be on our way.”

Thor’s paw flexes on Tony’s shoulder. “We should not keep Mother waiting.”

And then, pow, he’s… It’s an awful feeling, nothing at all like travel-by-Tesseract, more like being run through a cold sieve and “that _has_ to violate conservation of mass” comes stumbling right out.

Lothar’s still speaking to his nails. “You are welcome, to be sure.”

Tony snorts and hey, tact, he can do this, at least in the face of Thor’s quelling look. “I will show Tony to his chambers.”

“Good morrow to you both,” Lothar drawls and whoosh, he’s gone, fast as he came.

“Wow, zero people skills, and when _I’m_ saying that…”

Thor snorts, shrugs in a way that makes his armor creak. “Mages,” he says, all hapless-dad-on-a-sitcom resignation. And then there’s that kicked-puppy look again. “I meant no offense…”

A thwack of the ol’ godly bicep. “None taken because, hello, not a mage…”

“As you say,” Thor says, and yeah, that’s a smirk.

Tony points at him. “I’m ignoring that, because I like you…”

“You do me honor,” Thor murmurs and huh, wow, feelings. Moving on.

“…and because we could bicker or I could pump you for information on what I’m doing here and, oh, yeah, what do I call your mom, we’re a little short on royalty….”

Thor chuckles in his molten-sunlight way. “Have no fear. I have told her of your strange manner of speaking, and that you mean her no offense.”

“Ohhh-kay,” he drawls. “I was thinking more, is it ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Your Highness,’ or…”

“Either will suffice,” and yeah, that’s a mom voice if ever he’s heard one. How did someone so slight wind up with a brick shithouse like Thor…

“He favors his father,” she says, dry and wry, and Tony can’t help but give her the full Stark Smile.

“Telepathy?” he asks, and if it’s rude, hey, someone will shoot him down and Thor basically implied he has carte blanche here.

“You are not the first to shift your eyes between us,” she says, and that’s a company smile.

“Just noting that the people are as golden as the buildings around here,” and that’s his best wide-eyed innocent look.

The Queen chuckles. “You have a seidrman’s sly tongue.”

Thor shoots him an obvious don’t-you-dare glare. “What? I didn’t say…”

“Not yet,” Thor mutters.

“Hey,” Tony starts, but stills when the Queen puts a hand on his forearm, chuckling away.

“I spend my days among his fellows, Thor. I will not be shocked.”

Thor gives major side-eye. “That is _not_ a challenge.”

Hey, hey, this is getting out of hand. Tony throws up surrender-hands. “Wow. I’m feeling really attacked, here…”

Another musical laugh. “No such thing.” And that’s a conspirator’s smile. “Thor knows our ways too well to fool him so.”

“Uh,” he starts, and yeah, not really sure where he’s going with this.

Which the Queen clearly picks up on, “Come, then. There is much to do and I would see you start on it.” It’s not a conscious thing - he tugs toward his suitcase armor.

The Queen tugs him back - quite a grip you’ve got there, Majesty - and raises a disapproving brow. “Of course your belongings will be tended to.”

“Uh,” he starts again, because he really, _really_ doesn’t like leaving the suits around, but the Queen’s fingers tighten on his arm, just a smidge, a warning.

“You can trust,” and he doesn't miss the emphasis on that word, and, fine, message received, “that they will be well seen-to, unharmed,” and another smile, all diplomacy, “and unexamined.” Tony smiles back, slick-for-politicians variety, and the Queen’s voice goes low, conspiratorial. “I have the utmost respect for great workings and would not treat a guest’s ill, much less a guest come here to aid us.”

“Understood,” because what are you gonna do?

“Come, then. And lest you fear that you will wither in the company of old women…”

“Haven’t seen any yet,” and sure, it’s cheesy, but it gets him a laugh.

“Charming, more than most of your stripe.” Oh…kay. “Come. You’ll be back with Thor at table.”

“Until then, my friend,” Thor booms and fine, he’ll admit it, he braces up a little.

The Queen’s giving him a look. Huh. Ok. “Yeah, we’re not going poof, are we.”

Weirded out, in record time. “We have but to take a few short steps into my weaving-room,” and yeah, that’s a humor-the-crazy tone. He’s a connoisseur.

Which means it’s time for a shit-eating grin and the big wide eyes. “And here I thought you people magicked everywhere.”

There we go. She’s relaxed a little bit. “You think us strong, indeed.” Now it’s his turn to look weirded out. “No matter. Come along.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” and that’s his best Steve impression but the Queen’s laughing again so score one for the Tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a bad patch with writing but I'm hoping this will give me a jump-start! Your kind comments and kudos have really helped my mood between here and there and made it easy and fun to get back to business.


End file.
